Transmissions
by Red Tale
Summary: G1. The Transformers learn organic life is not all squishiness. Sideswipe, Sunstreaker, Tracks, Ratchet featured among many viewpoints.
1. Chapter 1

Transmissions – Red Tale

Of all the Autobots living at the Ark, only Sunstreaker and Sideswipe refused to live in bare quarters. Shortly after awakening on Earth they each set about decorating their shared quarters in very different tastes. Sunstreaker managed to keep his side neat and simplified. Comprised of abstract art, his collection stood in stark contrast to Sideswipe's photos of humans, to which he kept adding to over time until the walls were a jumble of colors and images. Most prominent of all was a poster from a magazine Spike had given him, a curvy young female human (much too young for Sideswipe) lying suggestively on a red Lamborghini.

Sunstreaker had learned the basics of "suggestively" from Telatram one. It was suppose to only apply to humans, in fact as he understood it both the car and the female were suppose to appeal to the male humans like Spike, this then led to self-destructive behavior among human females which had not yet been corrected in their evolution. The relationships of males and females were a thousand times more difficult among organics. But this "suggestiveness" affected Sideswipe's programming. As much as Sunstreaker hated the poster in his room, it held "sacred" level for Sideswipe. There were some things you just didn't fuck with. Ever.

Out on patrol, a hundred miles away from the Ark, Sideswipe also contemplated his favorite poster, an image he'd committed to memory. He knew he should be fully focused on his duty, but the imaginary young woman beckoned to him. He'd never felt such pulses on his home planet, he and Sunstreaker were on the young end of their generation and endless war tended to put a crimp in normal maturity patterns. Despite being the exact same age and in the exact same endless war, Sunstreaker managed to hook up left and right, never resorting to daydreams about what he couldn't have.

Daydreams became reality in the form of a strange body careening from a mountain cliff and landing, after he transformed, into his arm. Larger than a human, her legs spilled over, but the rest of her settled in comfortably.

"Hi", he greeted, ever the friendly and social autobot, "You okay?"

She gulped, catching her breath with what sounded like human lungs. Two pink eyes, human shaped but with glass lenses, peered at him from under a shock of pink hair laced with metal beads. The pink touches complimented her brown skin and red clothing, both of which looked artificial but felt soft. Her weight matched that of an organism composed of water and bone, not the titanium armor of even the most delicate femme of his world.

"Yeah, I guess so. Thanks."

He set her down gently, she swayed a little on her feet, and silvery hands grasped his arm. Despite the tight grip, the skin yielded to his metal frame, these hands were organic.

Sideswipe studied her, trying to categorize her.

"What are you?" Sideswipe inquired, all the proper social customs tossed to the wind.

"Cyborg. Part human, part robot."

Sideswipe processed this for almost a minute. Human squishiness, yet mechanical enough to plug into. The rest of the world faded from his mind.

"And what might you be?" She asked, catching his stare.

"A Transformer. An Autobot, to be exact. From Cybertron."

"So…you're all mech, huh?" she commented, looking him over.

"M-my name's Sideswipe", he stammered, the oil in his cylinders heating up.

"T'Mary", she replied.

Reduced to the impulses of a thirteen year old human boy, he touched her hair. She gracefully turned the touch into a kiss, something new to Sideswipe as it wasn't a Transformer practice and he hadn't dared attempt it with a human.


	2. Chapter 2

SHHHHEEEEEOOOO - BOOOOM!

The explosion rocked most of the autobots off their feet, even Optimus Prime staggered onto one knee, but Sideswipe stayed up, ignoring the blistering wounds until he launched a missile at Soundwave. After witnessing the direct hit and confirming that Soundwave went down in a glory of sparks, Sideswipe allowed himself to collapse and evaluate his own damage. Not only did energon and oil leak in various places, but several pieces of his charred metal decorated the immediate landscape. He recognized a larger section as part of the protective shell around his waist, but some originated from deeper inside.

The Autobots started to recover and rise again, in time for Starscream's incoming attack. Sunstreaker popped up and rapidly fired high-energy electron pulses, managing to drive the Decepticon away, but not before Megatron scored a blast to his chassis, bringing him down.

Sideswipe ignored his own wounds and rushed over to his brother. None of the others were in a position to cover Sunstreaker, and the Decepticon army, spotting his precarious position, immediately unleashed a barrage of laser shots, most of which didn't penetrate his armor, but a few hit the open wound inflicted by Megatron and scorched deeper, causing searing pain to both twins.

With a battle cry worthy of the warriors in Braveheart, Sideswipe leapt in the air, fired three shots, and landed on top of his brother, shielding him from further attack.

"Arrrgg", Sunstreaker moaned weakly as Sideswipe maneuvered himself into a protective position over him, determined not to let another laser harm his sibling.

"Sorry about the rough landing, Bro", Sideswipe apologized, realizing he'd probably momentarily imposed more pain than the laser blasts.

"It's not that…you're leaking fluid all over me", Sunstreaker complained, "You're practically giving me an oil transfusion on the field."

"Yeah, well, it's probably keeping you functional", Sideswipe replied, taking a moment to shoot Rumble in the arm.

"You're getting dirt and paint and Primus know what in there. I'll never get it out of my system."

Sideswipe glanced down at his brother.

"It's good for you", he assured the yellow twin struggling to stay online under him, "I think it's the kind of thing that Sparkplug says puts hair on your chassis."

Sideswipe had been holding this human phrase in for almost a month waiting for the perfect moment to emit it. Like most human phrases, he wasn't sure if the cultural reference would carry over, but at the very least it would keep Sunstreaker's mind occupied with functioning and not dying. The idea of Sunstreaker growing hair served to keep his own mood up as well.

"Ohh, Slag me now", Sunstreaker declared, his eyes gaining some strength.


	3. Chapter 3

"How much longer, Ratchet?" Sunstreaker inquired on Sideswipe's behalf, for about the tenth time in ten minutes, since Sideswipe had come back on line.

Ratchet paused a moment to glare at the yellow twin before returning to his work repairing the red one. He hastily switched tools from a pile laid out on a near by table. All of them dripped with oil and fluids of previous repairs, apparently it had been quite a battle. Sideswipe didn't remember anything after blacking out in the field.

Still disorientated, Sideswipe focused his optics on Sunstreaker. Their common practice was to wait for each other in the medic bay, especially when the injuries suffered were as severe as this last round. But they waited quietly, solemnly, letting the medics work, not pacing, fidgeting, and constantly interrupting.

Further more, Sunstreaker wasn't even fully repaired. His chasis bore clear marks where pieces had been replaced, but not painted. His finish was completely dull and grimy, even Sideswipe couldn't stand being that dirty outside of battle. You'd think he'd have polished up or something while waiting for him to come back on line.

And Sunstreaker's wasn't the only odd behavior in the room. Jazz leaned against the wall Sunstreaker was pacing, with an odd smile on his face he seemed to be trying to hide.

And along the opposite walls, as far from Sunstreaker as they could get and still be in the same room, were all the other Autobots. Every single one, even the minies.

Sideswipe wanted to ask what was wrong. He'd been out a while; maybe he'd been given a new body or something. But that didn't reconcile with his logic circuits. He couldn't read any of there faces. There were some faint smiles, but most eyes were on Sunstreaker and the smiles faded whenever he faced their direction in the course of his anxious pacing. Optimus Prime was not fazed by Sunstreaker, of course, but his face was completely unreadable. Well, not completely, there was definitely a hint of pride, of satisfaction, of…victory?

"What-", Sideswipe started to ask.

"Shhh!" Ratchet snapped, "don't make me disconnect your vocal unit."

Ratchet was not smiling in the least.

Not until he was done soldering the panels of Sideswipe's abandon into place.

"There, now you can tell him", Ratchet announced, suddenly beaming.

"Tell me wh-", Sideswipe started to ask.

Sunstreaker pushed Ratchet aside, jumped onto the capsule and grabbed Sideswipe's shoulders in the most boisterous display of affection Sideswipe had ever witnessed in their millions of years together.

"Soundwave is gone!" he proclaimed, "You did him in! They can't repair him!"

Sideswipe didn't have a chance to respond before Sunstreaker yanked him up and nearly spun him around for all the other autobots. Had Sideswipe been a few feet smaller he'd probably have ended up clear across the room.

The cheers of all the autobots deafened his audio-receptors for a full minute. Bumblebee ran up and proudly rebroadcast the conversation he'd captured from the Decepticons for Sideswipe:

"_Uh, Megatron, Soundwave don't look so good", Rumble could be heard._

_Ravage and Laserbeak echoed the sentiment through their animal cries._

"_That missile broke through his armor plating and cracked his central core", Starscream diagnosed, "With out a new one he'll remain unfunctional."_

"_And where might we find the means to repair him?" Megatron asked, obviously concerned about his most loyal warrior._

"_He'd need to be sent back to Cybertron. Maybe they could do something." Starscream informed him in a resigned tone._

"_We don't have the energy to open the space bridge", Megatron growled, "Starscream, this is your fault. That Autobot should have been rendered out of commission by now."_

"_But Megatron", Starscream started to wail._

Bumblebee ended the transmission.

"I'm keeping that one forever", he declared kissing the recording microphone in his left wrist.

By now the full ramifications had sunk into Sideswipe. He bent down, grabbed Bumblebee and spun him around.

"You'd better! Because I want to hear that every cycle from now on!" he crowed.

He kissed Bumblebee on the top of his head before setting the dizzy mini-bot back onto the floor.

"I wonder what happens to Rumble, Laserbeak, and Ravage now?", Wheeljack mused.

"Who cares??!!", Sunstreaker yelled, "Let's go kill the rest of them! Whose on?!"

"Yeah!!", Sideswipe joined.

Sideswipe went so far as to fire up his jet pack before Prime stopped him.

"Easy there, Sideswipe. It's an important victory, it may in time turn the tide of battle. But we are not prepared to go after them all yet."

"Maybe after you take out Starscream", Gears suggested.

"They're right. I can't go into battle looking like this", Sunstreaker agreed, seeming to notice his deplorable condition for the first time.

"We'll pay a visit to that Sunshine Car Wash on the way", proposed Sideswipe.

Prime laid a hand on his shoulder.

"I want you to celebrate this victory however you see fit. But…remain vigilant", Prime finally found a choice of words that weren't as useless as 'stay out of trouble'.

"We will", Sideswipe assured the cautious Prime.

"I'll go with them", Jazz offered.

"Thanks, Jazz. I'd feel better if you did. Just check in regularly."

"Yes Prime", Jazz agreed, the twins had already transformed and taken off.


	4. Chapter 4

"You're joining us, right Jazz?", Sideswipe insisted.

"You guys, I don't really need-", Jazz started to protest.

"Jazz, I'll never say this again. You're a fine looking mech", Sunstreaker stated.

Jazz thought that over. It wasn't so much the comment that puzzled him but that Sunstreaker said it out loud.

"Well, now you have to go", Sideswipe affirmed.

"Okay, you win", Jazz agreed languidly.

Together they rolled through Sunshine Car Wash. The Ark had washing facilities, even waxing, but it was pure economical, and more for the robot mode that the alternate, where as the humans had designed these car-washes to flatter the form of the car. This alone endeared Earth to Sunstreaker. Jazz knew Sideswipe's favorite part came at the end, when humans would gather around and hand-buff him. They were all in awe of the transformers, and more than willing to give them free passes for an opportunity to get up close to them and admire them, especially Lamborghinies. As a Porsche Jazz received adaquate attention.

Afterwards, the twins raced around the mountains paths, swinging around sharp curves, jumping over tree trunks and each other, and attempting to knock each other off course in the process. Their sheer free will hit Jazz as well, although he declined to join. He stayed within range, protectively scanning for Decepticon activity although he knew that, especially if Soundwave was down for the count, the Decepts were hurting bad. They might do a pure revenge raid, but most likely were, in a great Earth phrase he had learned, licking their wounds like dogs.

Finally the twins stopped, more like crashed, into a muddy pool at the base of a cliff they jumped off of together. Jazz rode to the edge and transformed, looking down, expecting Sunstreaker to growl and complain to Sideswipe for leading him into such an action. And indeed they were fighting in robot mode, covered in mud, but it was obviously in brotherly fun.

Jazz settled in and watch the two wrestle, a show other Autobots rarely witnessed . They were so entertaining, almost like sparklings. Jazz suddenly thought sadly to when was the last time he had seen an actual sparkling. The generational gap on Cybertron was immense. Until Bumblebee joined the Autobot base city on Cybetron, he hadn't even seen a transformer under a thousand vorn since the beginning of the war. In fact he had yet to meet a Cybertron-made transformer younger than Bumblebee since then, on either side, all the new ones created of late had been Earth made, and turned instantly to battle with no real time to grow and learn…and play.

Surviving records of Cybertron's evolution showed naturally occuring creation cycles normally happened every hundred-thousand vorn, and averaged a hundred transformers over a period of five-hundred vorns. But they stopped after the inition of the Civil War, no one had noticed for a long time, and no one could do much but speculate on whether this was a manifestation that they were destroying their own world.

Jazz thought back to his own early days, within the last of the creation cycles on Cybertron. He was actually towards the beginning of that cycle, the same cycle Sunstreaker and Sideswipe had emerged from, but they were at the end. Mirage and Ratchet were in the middle of the same cycle, although none of them had known each other until meeting at Autobot bases to join forces against the Decepticons. Bumblebee and a small crop of others formed on a city outside the range of the civil war, but once it reached that area the creations stopped. Jazz didn't know what happened to the others from that cycle, and suspected Bumblebee was truely the youngest functioning transformer.

Suddenly Jazz's warrior mind alerted him to a change in the twins's activities. Sideswipe had suddenly collapsed under Sunstreaker.

"I didn't…we were just wrestling, not really fighting", Sunstreaker explained helplessly.

"Scan the area, make sure this isn't the result of Decepticons", Jazz ordered as he leaped down from the cliff.

The more beneficial aspect of Sunstreakers scan was that he was focused on something besides his brother and out of the way. Jazz was more concerned about that than an actual Decepticon threat.

Jazz's objective survey of Sideswipe's body revealed nothing out of the ordinary, although the sudden shut down could be the result of over-strenouus activities so soon after major repairs. Still…Ratchet wouldn't have released him if that was a danger.

Unsatisfied and deeply concerned, Jazz called Autobot headquarters. Sideswipe was too big for them to transport themselves. Probebly Sunstreaker could carry him single handedly over mountains, wounded and limping on one leg the whole way, the love for his twin compelling him along…but Ratchet could get here in about five minutes and that was much easier.

Ratchet quickly ascertained the problem, Sideswipe had simply run out of energy. But he couldn't determine the cause on the field. The first step would be to take him back and recharge him properly. All three transformed, and Ratchet took Sideswipe back. Sunstreaker and Jazz trailed behind.

"Didn't Wheeljack recharge him while he was working? He was totally fuctional we left", Jazz mused.

"Maybe the recharge unit's malfunctioned", Sunstreaker suggested.

"We'll know soon enough", Jazz replied, to calm himself and the worried streak of yellow beside him.


	5. Chapter 5

Transmissions – Chapter 5

By Red Tale

A/N: Botcon was fantastic! I didn't run into anyone from here, though, which is too bad as I was hoping to meet some of you all in person.

FYI: New Transformer Movie Rocks!

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Sideswipe felt pretty good when he came around. Energy coursed through his circuits, all functioning correctly. He almost didn't realize anything had happened at all, except for being in the repair bay instead of outside, and a vague hint of vertigo circling around the edges of his consciousness

Well, and the concerned faces of Ratchet, Wheeljack, Jazz and Sunstreaker staring down at him.

"Hi", he greeted, for lack of a better opening.

Sunstreaker responded with a silent squeeze of his hand, a gesture usually reserved for their gravest moments. But this wasn't grave…Sideswipe felt fine.

"How you feelin'?", Wheeljack inquired. Ratchet was busy reading various scanners.

"Fine. Great, actually. Like an…Energizer Bunny."

A brief smile appeared across Jazz's face, but the others only flashed their eyes in confusion, the transformer equivalent of blinking.

"Just for the moment, Sideswipe, I'd appreciate it if you kept it to terms we would understand", Ratchet requested, "I'll assume, however, you mean that you feel fully functional."

"Yeah, I do. What am I doing here?"

"Jazz and Sunstreaker say you shut down outside, for no apparent reason. When I got to you your power core was drained, as if you'd been out for hours. I did a complete diagnostic, can't find nothing, so I gave you the highest grade energon we got here."

Ratchet informed him of this in a very neutral way, while still maintaining watch on the monitoring systems attached to Sideswipe. Although Ratchet generally kept an emotional distance from his patients, especially the twins, only Jazz knew Ratchet deeply enough to appreciate the seriousness of the situation.

"I feel fine now", Sideswipe assured them.

"Everything registers fine", Ratchet confirmed.

"Okay. Why don't you get up, do some paces, transform…", Wheeljack suggested.

Although there was nothing intimate about it, Sideswipe suddenly felt awkward transforming under their intense observation. He rolled around, transformed back, moved various limbs, and even flew a bit.

"See, everything's fine-", he started to assure them.

And then he dropped to the floor, off line.


	6. Chapter 6

"-that was nothing", Sideswipe immediately assured all around him as soon as he came back on line, "Really, I'm fine. Just a glitch, Ratchet will fix that right up."

Even as he said this Sideswipe realized that this hadn't been a momentary lapse. He pulled himself into a sitting position and looked at his surroundings, a platform in the middle of a strangely lit room. Ratchet stepped towards him and read his energy signals. Although as far as Sideswipe could tell everything seemed to be operating normally, Ratchet's frown deepened.

"I'll try. Just tell us how you're feeling."

"Okay", Sideswipe answered soberly, briefly meeting eyes with Sunstreaker and deciding now was not the time for false proclamations, "I mean, nothing hurts…I guess I feel a little low on energy."

"Can you transform?", Wheeljack asked, "We just want to make sure you're fully functional before..."

Sideswipe transformed, drove a little bit although the room wasn't big enough for him to maneuver well. He transformed back, and waited expectantly for what to test next, being palpably observed by Ratchet, Wheeljack, Sparkplug, Optimus Prime, Jazz, Preceptor, and Sunstreaker.

"Just as I thought…", mused Preceptor after another minute of consulting his data pad. Sunstreaker turned away, which Sideswipe took to be a bad sign. Sunstreaker looked so…dim. Not just his eyes, but his whole body.

"Sideswipe, we don't know what's wrong with you yet", Ratchet informed him, in a tone usually reserved for informing Optimus of a warriors death, "What we do know is your core can't process energon. Preceptor and Wheeljack designed this room as a test, your solar processing equipment still works, and you can run off of the UV light here. But…"

"I'm sure your aware those solar processors are only for backup. You can't function solely on those", Preceptor stepped in, "And it requires much more energy to fuel you this way than through energon. Until we learn exactly what's wrong, and how to fix it, we're going to have to keep you off line."

Although his knowledge of the autobot body matched Ratchet, and is innovation matched Wheeljack's, his "bedside manner" matched Gears at it's best.

Sunstreaker and Jazz flinched, although it didn't look that this was their first time hearing this news. Sunstreaker seemed to lean slightly towards Jazz, and Sideswipe fought a wave of jealously for his brother, who would be experiencing life without him. And then he fought a wave of despair, the autobots could not afford to lose warriors, and especially not ones as good as him.

"But, couldn't I just stay outside then, and use sun power? I could stay near the base, and at least defend it-"

"No, Sideswipe", replied Optimus Prime gravely, "It's too unreliable. You might deactivate at crucial times."

"No, no I wouldn't", Sideswipe replied, "I'm stronger than that, and I'd have Sunstreaker…"

But a quick glance at his twin dispelled that notion. Sunstreaker still wasn't looking at him.

"I'm sorry Sideswipe", Ratchet sighed, "But this planet doesn't have a steady source of solar energy. There are a lot more clouds and…"

"And we don't know what's wrong with you. It might get worse. For all we know you might explode in the middle of battle and take us all out with you" Preceptor explained, indifferent to the noticeable emotional pain he was causing his comrades.

Sideswipe thought he could still argue this out, think this through rationally, solve this problem…

But then Preceptor hit the switch, turning the UV lights, and Sideswipe, off.


	7. Chapter 7

(A/N: well, I've been to Jena and back (see profile). With my brief moment to breath I decided to get you all another chapter to this story. Enjoy.)

Sideswipe returned to consciousness, alert and functional, but the threat of instant shut-down loomed over him, stressing his already weary circuitry. This time he didn't even bother to activate his optics, what was the point, he already sensed he was in the same room, the same boring room, with ten or fifteen comrades, and one brother, watching helplessly over him.

Sideswipe used his precious and precarious online phase to consider that he may never be able to leave this room. He had a lot of faith in Ratchet, but never before had he known Ratchet to need the consult of Wheeljack and Preceptor, and to still not solve a mechanical malady within an Earth-cycle. According to Sideswipe's internal clock, assuming it was still accurate, more than 30 Earth cycles, more than an Earth-month, had passed since he'd been moved to this room. For a being that had lived hundreds of thousands of years, suddenly thirty days became an unfathomable stretch. Surely all the Decepticons were repaired by now, maybe even Soundwave.

His thoughts drifted to the outside, how much he loved this planet, the roads, the sun, the inhabitants, all of it was so beautiful. And a wave of gratefulness washed over him as he thought of his recent opportunity to express that love, he'd been thinking perhaps it was a mistake, he'd never encountered such intimacy except with his own twin, and it was all so fast, he really should have thought it through more, but now he sat trapped in this room, as good as dead, and let the gratitude that he was able to think of her and not of what might have been, soothe his spirit.

Such feelings with in him stirred him to open his eyes, if only to glance at his brother who did not yet know this one secret. He suddenly craved his brother's presence, the only other being to love him so much, although the many autobots in the room were a testament to his reputation as both friend and warrior.

His quick scan of the crowd of autobots did not show his brother. His mind started tearing in different directions, his transmitters revealed that his brother was next to him, actually, not with the others. Meanwhile he did a full scan of his comrades, trying to process what was wrong, what was different about this time than last time. The palpable observation still hung in the air, the constant monitoring of the various equipment continued, the heavy concern, both for Sideswipe as an individual and for the autobots as a whole, radiated from Optimus Prime. The distancing of Ratchet's personal feelings directly related to the intensity of his work. These elements had all been in the room before.

Unable to figure it out, and yearning for twin companionship, Sideswipe turned to face his brother.

Although his transmitters had told him Sunstreaker's exact position, Sideswipe still stared expectantly at eye level, even reaching out his arm to feel the proper space. Finally he had to look down, where Sunstreaker lay in a golden heap on the floor. The room had several platforms besides the one Sideswipe occupied, but apparently Sunstreaker could not bring himself to rest on such a perch, preferring the utter misery of the ground instead. Sideswipe reached down, found Sunstreaker's hand, and grasped it, as much for his own comfort as for his twin, although Sunstreaker barely responded. Sideswipe knew Sunstreaker currently functioned as well as he did, physically, but being rendered inactive in such an undignified manner through events beyond his immediate control, and not through a glorious battle of his own determination, left Sunstreaker quite depressed. So depressed he could almost drag Sideswipe down with him through the sheer vortex of his despondency.

In fact Sideswipe held out only a few astro-seconds before succumbing to Sunstreaker's pull, joining him on the floor and attempting to comfort him somehow, with a combination of muttered assurances and gentle touches. Sunstreaker kept his optics closed and did not respond outwardly, but Sideswipe felt the gloom surrounding them lift slightly.

"…Jazz?"

Sideswipe tuned his audio sensors in to what the autobots were now intently discussing. Bumblebee had arrived, standing in the middle of the crowd giving a report.

"- The same as the twins, just down the hall", Bumblebee explained.

"You just left him there? Couldn't you and Prowl bring him in together?"

"I'm not touching him", Bumblebee replied.

Sideswipe now looked up to confirm what he thought he had heard in Bumblebee's voice. Yes, there it was, something which had failed to materialize in any of the battles he'd ever witnessed Bumblebee in, not even in the very face of Megatron. Something he and Sunstreaker had theorized long ago had simply been left out of Bumblebee's programming. Fear.

Here stood an autobot who, when Grimlock had gone crazy and sent everyone else, the twins included, fleeing for their lives, had actually dared the behemoth to chase him instead, risking every scrap of his being for the sake of the autobots with out a second thought, and yet now would not be persuaded to lift a fallen comrade just outside the door.

This fear, Sideswipe realized, was the new element he detected among the autobots. It was one thing for one comrade to befell a mysterious ailment. But then Sunstreaker, although with them being twins that wasn't so shocking. But now Jazz, that changed everything, and Bumblebee's expression of this fear brought it out for all of them to face openly.

"Why not?", Wheeljack finally asked.

"It might be contagious", Spike explained for him, "Like a cold."

There was a moment of consideration for this.

"But we're not organisms", Preceptor rationed, "We don't catch "colds" from each other."

"It could be a computer virus like Earth machines have", Bumblebee said, "and until we know we shouldn't touch them. Have you seen what these viruses do to human populations?"

"There is no Earth virus that could affect us in that way, Bumblebee", Preceptor tried to reassure everyone, but the unspoken words hung ominously in the air, _"That we know of…" _

TBC…


	8. Chapter 8

Hello all,

I'd like to take a moment to give some credit where credit is due. I happened to watch the beginning of the Japanimation show, Stand Alone Complex, about a Female Cyborg, and watching the opening sequence, I thought, wow…now there's something Sideswipe would like…and suddenly 90 of the story sprang to life. Futurama sparked most of the rest, especially the scene where Bender's locked in a bathroom, getting an "electricity fix", and Lyla knocks on the door yelling "Are you Jacking On in there?" Suddenly a world of robot sexuality opened before my eyes. And I've always been interested in Disease control, how diseases evolve and how social conditions allow them to spread. Aids is a particular fascination of mine, the disease featured here is based on the AIDs virus, not so much it's symptons but it's mysteriousness to unravel, it's ability to go between related species, and it's spread though social conditions (yes, we're going to learn a lot about Autobots before this is through).

And finally, I don't own any of the transformers characters, and frankly, I'm better off that way. If I actually owned them I'd have to write stories based on how best to sell toys, there's only so many versions of Sideswipe and Sunstreaker one can make, and the virus featured in the story really doesn't hold up as an iconic supervillian. I just came to appreciate this so much more after watching Season 4 of G1, in which fifty characters are introduced and a huge climax forced to happen over just three episodes, all because they had to sell a bunch of Headmaster toys. And let's not forget the whole killing Optimus Prime off so we can make new toy thing.

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Sparkplug looked down at his lucky wrench, remembering the many intricate repairs he'd performed with this simple tool. How awesome it'd been to realize that Transformer bodies opened much the same way cars did, that even the most complex systems among them followed basic mechanical structures that he, a mechanic with a high school education, could understand.

And now it was all woefully inadequate. He had no idea how to help them with a "disease". He'd never understood what was meant by a "computer virus", although he'd heard of them disabling whole networks. But he thought they spread through the internet.

"Hey, isn't anyone going to help me?", Prowl announced, having opened the door and attempting to drag Jazz in himself. Optimus made a move forward, but Spike stepped in between them.

"Wait, Prime. I think Bumblebee's right. You shouldn't touch them. Right, Dad?"

Sparkplug sighed, trying to remember Health class from thirty years ago, and reconcile this with any understanding of computer viruses.

"He's right. Until we figure this out, we need a quarantine. And we should keep only medic personnel in here, Ratchet, Preceptor, and Wheeljack. The rest of you should clear out and stay out. Especially you, Prime. We'll deal with Jazz and anyone else who falls, understand?"

Prowl dropped Jazz's leg and took a step away, catching a look at Sideswipe and Sunstreaker across the room.

"Are you saying this is spreading from the twins? It's a good thing I don't touch them."

Sparkplug sighed again. God, he hoped this was temporary.

"Prowl, since you and Jazz were together, you're now part of the quarantine. You too, Bumblebee."

Bumblebee opened his mouth, as if about to protest, but a stern nod from Prime silenced him. He stepped away from the rest of the autobots, and solemnly took his place among one of the empty platforms on Sideswipe's side. Spike automatically went with him, and Sparkplug decided not to stop him. If Bumblebee had anything, and it could be passed to humans, than Spike already had it. Prowl angrily flung himself on another platform and kept glaring at Sideswipe and Sunstreaker on the floor. Ratchet and Wheeljack picked up Jazz and laid him on a platform near the twins.

Sparkplug watched the other autobots leave, suddenly very careful to avoid each other and steer clear of Bumblebee, Prowl, Jazz and the twins. He made his own way over to Jazz, to check on his general stats, although he was already certain it was the same as Sideswipe and Sunstreaker. Unable to maintain energy in his core, but restored to life after a few minutes under the solar panels in the room.

"What happ…oh, no", Jazz moaned, realizing his predicament.

"I'm sorry Jazz", Ratchet offered hopelessly, "Apparently it's spreading."

"Bummer", he replied, lying back down, "Real bummer. Bee and Prowl too?"

"Well, we haven't actually come down with any symptoms", Bumblebee stressed.

"It's a precautionary measure with them", Sparkplug explained.

"So, um, if this is a disease, we need to figure out how it's spreading", said Spike, "I mean, maybe we can look for germs or something?"

"I've been thinking about this disease theory", Preceptor piped up, "But I don't see any way we could spread it to each other. We don't breathe the way humans do, we don't have skin. We don't have blood cells."

"But you do have blood, kind of", Sparkplug offered, "I mean, your oil is like blood…could it get contaminated? With humans, a contaminated blood supply at the hospital will spread diseases all over."

The three medic autobots considered this heavily.

"I've never heard of a similar case in our history", Ratchet replied, "And I've done oil transfusions on the field for…millions of your years. I've taken oil straight from dying transformers and into stronger warriors so they would make it. Sunstreaker there must have had 100's of transfusions."

Sparkplug noticed the rare hitch in Ratchet's voice as he explained what being a medic in the middle of a war zone entailed.

"But…that was all on Cybertron. You're on Earth now. We have diseases here."

Prowl broke his angry glare with the twins to look over at them.

"Why don't you just ask the twins what, exactly, did they do? Then undo it before it kills us all."


	9. Chapter 9

Transmissions

By Orange Tale

Happy New Year

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"We didn't do this, Prowl", Sunstreaker announced, standing up to his full height, "In case you forgot, We…Are…Autobots. This is the work of Decepticons. Don't confuse us with them."

He crossed his arms definitively and settled down next to Sideswipe. He preferred being on the floor, full of self pity and unconsciousness, but Prowl's offensive attack on their integrity had snapped him out, and he couldn't go back. Which meant now he'd have to really face the situation. The autobots were in grave danger, and he couldn't do anything to help, except maybe lend his mind to the collectivity and figure out the solution to this. But…his mind was not necessarily the sharpest thing about him, he mused, glancing longingly at his electron-pulse gun. Which, he noticed, needed polishing to achieve it's glorifying affect as part of his splendor.

"Glad you could join us", Jazz sighed from his platform, although he looked ready to sink to the floor himself.

"Hmmm", Sunstreaker acknowledged, now distracted by a mark on his wrist, which turned out to just be just dirt easily removed.

"Did any of you use different oil or anything?", Sparkplug inquired, working on a writing pad of questions associated with diseases, but ignoring the ones related to purely human things like, say, Herpes. Even if there was such a thing as sex among transformers…

"No", Ratchet answered for them, "All the fuel we use is refined by the same systems in our body."

"And", Preceptor pointed out, "If it were poisoned we would all be affected in much closer range to each other. Sideswipe was affected almost a whole month before Sunstreaker and the others."

"It's not actually "others" yet", Ratchet pointed out, "It's only the twins, and Jazz for sure."

"Weren't the three of you together when Sideswipe came down with it? Maybe we should go back there."

"It was just a car wash", Sunstreaker replied, "And I go there all the time."

He glanced down, realizing how long it had been since he had bathed properly. If he didn't regularly maintain his body, it went downhill fast, especially on this filthy planet with all it's dust.

"Sunshine Car Wash. About 10 miles East", Jazz informed them helpfully, "I didn't notice anything weird about them though."

"I know where it is", Spike said, "Let's go check it out."

He waited expectantly for Bumblebee, who looked longingly at Wheeljack.

"Uh…can I take Bumblebee? He seems fine and we won't touch any of the others."

"What do you think", Ratchet asked Sparkplug, the now authoritarian on communicable diseases among aliens, two subjects he knew very little about.

"I, uh…well, if there is anything at the carwash we don't want to expose anyone else to it…I guess Bumblebee is the best at exploring with out getting infected…unless he already is infected…in which case it doesn't really matter."

Bumblebee and Spike looked at him, trying to figure out whether that was a "Yes" or "No".

"Yeah, just be careful", Sparkplug sighed, turning back to his checklist, wondering about the incubation period for colds and how something similar could affect Sideswipe first. He realized with some guilt that he had never washed his hands before operating on the Autobot comrades.

Bumblebee had already transformed and rolled out with Spike at the letter "Y". Apparently quarantine was not his favorite past time.

Even lacking Preceptor's vast intellect or Sparkplug's basic understanding of the common cold, Sunstreaker knew the answers didn't lie in something as simple as the Sunshine Carwash, and not only because it happened to be his favorite place on this world, and therefore could do no wrong. There was something more complex here, and if only he could take his mind off of the uneven sheen of his right leg maybe he could figure it out. For the sake of the autobot cause, he must get some wax.

"You know, if we're all going to stay in here we need to get some polish for Sunstreaker, or he's going to snap", Jazz stated calmly from his perch.

The twins both looked over at him, it wasn't the first time he had apparently read one of their minds. Sideswipe long ago theorized that, except for the age difference, he seemed to have gotten a piece of their spark too. Sunstreaker just assumed him to be especially perceptive, and especially apt at putting his observations into words. He appreciated this quality in Jazz, even if sometimes the same observations were used to challenge him, or infuriate him.

Preceptor and Prowl sighed audibly, but Wheeljack obliged, returning shortly with soap, wax, and polish, as well as some other necessary tools from his workshop, figuring they should make as few forays into the broader autobot base as possible. And as long as he was already out and about, he went ahead and picked up Tracks, who was lying deactivated near his workshop, and dragged him back to the quarantine area.

Like the others, Tracks returned to life almost immediately under the solar lights, which, even at the great expense of energy, we're now being kept on indefinitely until the source of the problem was solved.

"But I didn't touch anyone", he protested.

Sparkplug responded with a shrug while he studied Spike's Health class book, focusing on communicable diseases, once more skipping over the sections on sex.

Meanwhile Sunstreaker set about to the most important task at hand, raising moral and consciousness through art. The fresh cleansing of his form worked it's magic, the more his body sparkled the more his mind worked. The presence of Tracks, besides being generally irritating, was a new element, now they could be sure Sunshine Car Wash had nothing to do with it since he deliberately visited it's rival in the area, Rainbow Car Wash. In fact there was absolutely no connection between Tracks and either of the twins, this marked the first time they had even been in the same room together since they landed on Earth.

So, whatever it was, neither him nor his brother were responsible, a fact he was sure of anyway but it was nice to be **really** sure, just to spite Prowl.

It was while buffing the glass planes of his windshield that the thought struck him, the one thing that the twins had in common with Tracks was-

"Jazz", Preceptor suddenly called, "I just noticed something strange about your readings."

"Okay", Jazz replied quietly, although his characteristic coolness, like Bumblebee's trademark bravery, was clearly wearing thin.

"See, the energy signatures around your wrists are different then Sunstreaker's, so maybe this explains…oh, wait…actually, Sunstreaker…yours are different that everyone else."

Wheeljack and Ratchet gathered around the monitor, pointing and communicating about stuff that didn't make any sense to the others, until Wheeljack finally took a moment to explain in laybot terms.

"According to this, Sunstreaker, your energy drain is sourced right at your pump, in your chasis, but every else's originates at their wrist ports, connecting to the plasma line."

Sideswipe narrowed his eyes at his wrist line, but didn't see anything wrong with it. Sunstreaker, meanwhile, stopped buffing his glass as if he might do more damage.

"What does that mean?", Jazz inquired lazily, not prepared to get excited about it just yet.

"We don't know", Preceptor replied adamantly, "But it's really fascinating."

TBC…


	10. Chapter 10

A groan escaped Sparkplug before he could politely contain it. The last thing they needed around here was "fascinating". What they needed was a clean, simple break, some clue to tie everything together, point them on the right path, and from there they could figure out a cure. Sparkplug was confident in that, this wasn't even the darkest hour the Autobots had ever faced. But the agonizing period of not knowing, of starting to doubt that they would overcome this time...that was almost unbearable.

With a deep drink of cold, black coffee, Sparkplug turned back to Spike's Health book, reading about the discovery of the spread of Cholera through drinking wells in 1854. In that case, a map of the victims provided the lynch-pin to solving the case.

This led to a slight detour in his mind to a book he had read a while ago, it was a cheap paperback horror, he didn't even remember the name, but there was a part in which the hero used a map to determine that a radio wave signal was responsible for a bubonic-plague type outbreak.

Perceptor, Wheeljack and Ratchet were still intensely studying the diagnostics. As they compared readings Wheeljack started doing a diagnostic on himself.

"Are you affected by radio signals?"

"Yes", Perceptor replied, "Yes that could affect us…"

He immediately went to another computer and earnestly started research. Wheeljack and Ratchet were absorbed in their own experiments. So Sparkplug decided to do a map himself. Since the Autobots didn't believe in chalkboards he made do with pencil and paper, and carefully wrote in all the data about where and when each autobot was discovered.

"What data are you compiling?" Perceptor inquired after a moment.

"Just trying to make a map of the disease", Sparkplug replied, although his poor drawing skills rendered the map as little more than five lines connecting four stick figures with illegible names, one of them under a short, curved scribble that in Sparkplug's mind was a sun indicating Sideswipe fell outdoors.

"Well, how about that", Wheeljack remarked.

"Yes, it puts a whole new perspective on this whole thing", Ratchet said.

"Thanks", Sparkplug beamed, proud to have contributed some useful insight, "Maybe we can use this to…"

He realized that none of the three medics were talking to, or even looking at him. Wheeljack was the center of attention.

"Yeah, originated in my wrist port too", Wheeljack replied.

"If it weren't for these solar panels…" Ratchet mused.

"Perhaps you contacted it from Tracks", Perceptor suggested, "After all, you were fine when you left here."

"Yeah, but the incubation period on this is very confusing", Ratchet countered, "I still don't get how Sideswipe fell so much earlier than the others."

Sparkplug balled up his useless map and threw it in the garbage. Wheeljack coming down with the disease was not a "break" in the case. They needed someone who had the disease and had answers, they needed the one that started it all. But at this point it would be a miracle for a clue like that to fall into their laps.

"Bumblebee calling Autobots…" came Bumblebee's transmission through Wheeljack's com-link.

"Listen, Spike and I found something out here…I think it's connected to our disease. I don't know how to explain it but you better take a look."

"I can't leave", Wheeljack answered heavily, "I got the same condition."

"Well, I…I'm not sure I can carry her back to the base."

Although the word "her" caused everyone's audio sensors (or in Sparkplug's case, ears) to prick up intently, the affect of the word on Sideswipe was similar to…perhaps the great author Douglas Adams said it best…Sideswipe felt as if his cerebral processor had just been smashed out with a slice of lemon wrapped round a large gold brick.


	11. Chapter 11

_**A/N: The story thus far: After a decisive win against the Decepticons, several Autobots are plagued with a disease which renders them unable to store and process energon. They can only function using their internal solar converters, which are only meant to be supplementary power and will fail with out a constant outside power source. Sparkplug, Wheeljack, Perceptor and Ratchet take the lead in trying to figure out what is causing the virus, how it is spreading, and how to cure it. Bumblebee and Spike, in a mission that was mainly just an excuse for Bumblebee to get out of quarantine, happen across a vital clue in the form of a lifeless cyborg, the very cyborg that, unknown to any other autobot, including his own twin, Sideswipe met, and had what he had taken to be an uncharacteristically quick, no-strings attached quickie relationship with, back in Chapter One. By now all the readers should have realized this is the transformer version of an STD, whose true devastation lies not in the physical manifestations, but the social. **_

_**But wait…there's more…**_

"Her?", Wheeljack repeated, trying to imagine a female human that even Bumblebee, small as he was, couldn't easily transport.

"A femme…sort of…Can anyone come get her?"

"Is she unable to move on her own?"

"She…um, she's inoperative. Looks like she was shot by a Decepticon. We just found her here, in a river by the car wash. I don't know if she has anything to do with this…disease…but at least we should see if we can fix her…or dispose of her…properly."

Now all the others felt the sensation of having their cerebral processors smashed out with a slice of lemon wrapped round a large gold brick, while Sideswipe had moved on to the feeling of having his central pump drop to his feet, causing him to clutch at the painful ache in his chest unit.

"I'll go", Ratchet volunteered, "If she can be saved I'll do it."

He transformed and raced out, in the process swerving to avoid the fallen bodies of Cliffjumper and Bluestreak. At this rate the autobots were going to have to install full spectrum lighting through out the base to remain operative.

Meanwhile, Sunstreaker eyed his twin with dawning horror.

"Are you experiencing pain? Is this _**disease**_ progressing? Because if it is, I just want to be shut down right now."

"No, it's not that", Sideswipe assured him, although the pain was quite acute, nothing he'd experienced in battle had ever felt close to this.

Everyone now had turned to him, the harbringer of new symptoms, and nothing short of horror was reflected in all their optics as they watched him clumsily slide to the floor. Sideswipe had ironically attempted to deflect attention by doing that, instead all of the autobots, including his twin, literally jumped back ten feet, still staring intensely at his every movement.

Sparkplug dropped the health book and raced to assist Sideswipe. Wheeljack quickly gathered the courage to join him.

"Okay, relax, everything's fine", Wheeljack assured himself more than Sideswipe, "What's hurting you?"

Sideswipe just wanted to close his optics and go into voluntary shut-down, but of course that would just send them all into a frenzy.

"It's not the disease", he sighed, "It's the femme. I think I might know her."

Silence filled he room.

Several astro-seconds passed, and still no one uttered a word.

So we'll just leave them for a while and see what's happening with Ratchet.

Ah, Ratchet. He'd never consider himself on a par with Optimus Prime, yet the Autobot fate rested entirely on his shoulder joints. It almost seemed a vacation to be racing around the mountainside to attempt to save an unknown femme, and he honestly didn't see any possible connection to the case at hand. Truthfully, the quarantine was getting to him the same as the others. His greatest sense of pride came when the medic bay was all clear; that he had saved everyone - if only for a breem. That feeling hadn't come in almost a stellar cycle now.

It didn't take long to reach the Sunshine carwash, and he soon located Bumblebee and Spike. Although humans populated the area, they did not come down to this riverbed, the area remained undisturbed.

Actually, _"undisturbed"_ was not accurate. Both Bumblebee and Spike looked very disturbed as they sat by the river bank waiting for him. Transforming, Ratchet studied the lifeless, partially submerged body. _"A femme…sort of…"_ indeed. She was a perfect mix of human and cybertronian, about ten feet tall, dressed in tailor made clothes that now rotted in the water, but with brown skin material that did not decompose at all. Her matted pink hair, decorated with metal beads, floated in the water the same as humans. Along the edge of the bank a film of oil had gathered, her form of blood or energon. Ratchet, even more so than Sideswipe, immediately appreciated the beauty of the details that went into her construction.

Ratchet gently went into the water and examined her. No life signals remained. Bumblebee was correct in his assessment that she had been shot by a Decepticon. Ratchet could take it one step further, he had treated the very type of laser burns that seared her back and through what was her version of a heart or central pump thousands of times before.

This was the work of Starscream.


	12. Chapter 12

_**A/N: The story thus far: After a decisive win against the Decepticons, several Autobots are plagued with a disease which renders them unable to store and process energon. They can only function using their internal solar converters, which are only meant to be supplementary power and will fail with out a constant outside power source. Sparkplug, Wheeljack, Perceptor and Ratchet take the lead in trying to figure out what is causing the virus, how it is spreading, and how to cure it. Bumblebee and Spike, in a mission that was mainly just an excuse for Bumblebee to get out of quarantine, happen across a vital clue in the form of a lifeless cyborg, the very cyborg that, unknown to any other autobot, including his own twin, Sideswipe met, and had what he had taken to be an uncharacteristically quick, no-strings attached quickie relationship with, back in Chapter One. By now all the readers should have realized this is the transformer version of an STD, whose true devastation lies not in the physical manifestations, but the social. **_

_**And now we've just learned that there's some connection between the Decepticons and the random femme cyborg, who might now be so random after all. **_

Back at the autobot base, Sideswipe had managed to explain the chance meeting of the femme to the others, but was now at a loss to answer the inevitable question of

…"_And then what happened?"_

Soon he realized that the most profond moment of his life actually meant surprisingly little to everyone else. Most of the others had determined that, while utterly fascinating, it didn't pertain the critical problem at hand, and the burdens of the disease far outweighed even the new discovery of another sentiment being. Prowl fumed inwardly at Sideswipe's complete lack of security protocol, after all meeting an alien cyborg on patrol should certainly be immediately reported to the superior officer, which was him. This wasn't the first or the worst of Sideswipe's recklessness, and within the confines of quarantine there wasn't anything Prowl could do about it anyway. Perceptor, Wheeljack and Sparkplug turned back to their analysis, trying to come up with more tests they could do to discover the cure. Wheeljack would like nothing better to meet the Cyborg if it could be revived, but it ranked at the bottom of his list right now. Jazz saw it as nothing more than a random encounter which Sideswipe preferred to keep private, sure he should have reported it, but Sideswipe also knew enough to tell a Decepticon from a neutral, if the Cyborg was neutral it didn't endanger the autobot base, so it wasn't the end of the world. It was sad that she had died, though. He should probably attempt to talk to Sides privately about it, but that was hard to do in a confined room. Tracks hadn't paid attention to most of the discussion, his coping mechanism against boredom and depression was to constantly daydream that he was outside driving up mountains and gliding back down over and over again.

Only Sunstreaker, perhaps because of the spark he shared with Sideswipe, formed the connection between an unknown cyborg meeting Sideswipe and an unknown disease sweeping through their ranks. It came to him as a simple statement in his mind.

"_It's his fault."_

Sunstreaker's first reaction was to mentally slam the door shut on where this thought was taking him. He did so with such force that physically his body was jerked back slightly, and his optics temporarily went black.

So violent was his reaction that it reverberated to Sideswipe, who felt a sudden sensation of falling through a deep hole. He could see it in his mind, even though his feet stood on firm ground. This hole in Sunstreaker's mind represented the well of knowledge that swallowed him up. The door broke apart.

_On the battlefield, Sideswipe leaping on top of Sunstreaker, both of them with exposed circuitry and plasma lines, Sunstreaker with a deep chassis wound, Sideswipe leaking oil all over…_

"_According to this, Sunstreaker, your energy drain is sourced right at your pump, in your chassis…"_

Recovering from the shock of the revelation, Sunstreaker now stared at his twin with cool dark blue optics. His sight had recovered. He saw everything now.

Sideswipe stared back, the intense mental connection between them, the hole and the falling through it, had vanished just as suddenly as it had come, but now it felt as if any connection between them was permanently severed. His spark ached slightly, an affect they both hated, that sometimes made them hate each other. This looked like one of those times.

"_What?" _he asked through their internal radio system.

"_You fool"_, Sunstreaker broadcasted back, in their own modified Cybertronian language. Even through an internal channel he didn't trust that it was completely private, and he wasn't ready yet to have this revealed to the autobots, that the Decepticons might win because a transformer who shared half of his spark would one day decide to hook into an alien.

"_I beg your pardon?" _Sideswipe replied in the same language. He'd been looking for support from Sunstreaker, he was about to tell him the whole story with the femme, the femme who was now dead. But not only was Sunstreaker not about to support him, he was going to pick a nasty fight.

Although the conversation was silent to the others, Jazz noticed the way the twins were staring at each other. He especially noticed Sunstreaker's stance. A nasty fight was coming on. He prepared to intervene.

"_You hooked into an alien. An alien you didn't even know. She could have been a Decepticon."_

"_She wasn't."_

Sideswipe still didn't understand Sunstreaker's' hostility. He wasn't fond of humans, he no doubt viewed a cyborg femme as an abomination, and the hooking into one as disgusting at best. But that didn't warrant a nasty fight.

The innocence gleaming in Sideswipe's optics infuriated Sunstreaker even more.

"_Don't you understand?! She passed this to you, and you passed it to me! You slagging fool, you passed it into me!" _Sunstreaker screamed into the internal radio so loud Sideswipe instinctively covered his audio sensors.

Unable to bear it anymore, Sunstreaker grabbed a nearby crowbar, but instead of attacking Sideswipe he turned it on himself, smashing apart the glass in his windshield to get at the contaminated area inside, to rid himself of this filth that was flowing through his plasma lines. He's rather destroy himself than play host to this disease any longer. In his mind, he was irreparably ruined.

"Whoa!! Hey, now!!" Jazz ordered, grabbing the crowbar before he could do further damage.

Even this outburst barely stirred the others, and only to assess that Jazz had it well in hand. The twins were total loose cannons, they were bound to go off eventually.

Jazz managed to get the crowbar away from Sunstreaker and threw it across the room. He glanced at Sideswipe, who'd sunk to the floor under Sunstreaker's heavy accusation, realizing but not quite acknowledging the possibility. But Jazz's attention quickly turned back to Sunstreaker, who had managed to get his hand into his chassis and was attempting to disconnect his own pump. The ensuing struggle to prevent this suicide did bring the attention of everyone in the room back on them. No one had seen Sunstreaker _**this**_ crazy before, and now Perceptor was speculating that the disease might be similar to human rabies.

Jazz, however, could tell Sunstreaker was entirely sane. After pinning him down, he used his own internal radio.

"_Talk to me, Sunny"_ he implored.

_tbc..._


	13. Chapter 13

_**A/N: the story thus far: after a decisive win against the Decepticons, several Autobots are plagued with a disease which renders them unable to store and process energon. They can only function using their internal solar converters, which are only meant to be supplementary power and will fail with out a constant outside power source. Currently those affected (Sunstreaker, Sideswipe, Tracks, Jazz, and Prowl) are quarantined in a section of the base installed with light panels, and have to stay there in order to function. Sparkplug, Wheeljack (also affected), Perceptor and Ratchet take the lead in trying to figure out what is causing the virus, how it is spreading, and how to cure it. Bumblebee and Spike, in a mission that was mainly just an excuse for Bumblebee to get out of quarantine, happen across a vital clue in the form of a lifeless cyborg, the very cyborg that Sideswipe met, and had what he had taken to be an uncharacteristically quick, no-strings attached quickie relationship with, back in Chapter One. By now all the readers should have realized this is the transformer version of an STD, whose true devastation lies not in the physical manifestations, but the social. The social devastation begins to manifest between Sunstreaker and Sideswipe. Shortly it will spread to Jazz, and finally, dear readers, some of your questions concerning who did what with who will be answered.**_

_**But first we shall dive into the mind of Tracks, whose viewpoint so far has not been fairly represented in a story that actually centers on him quite a bit.**_

Tracks couldn't believe his optics and his optics were the only thing he could rely on, since no one was speaking out loud. There must be something more to this conflict, but he never understood the twins. There was a reason he avoided them at all costs.

Irrationality frightened him. And the twins personified it.

Their unique phenomenon, the crazed way they acted around the base with the pranks, not ever knowing whether Sunstreaker really believed in the cause or was just there for his brother, the energon-lust glow of their eyes after a brutal fighting rampage… it was observing this that Tracks realized he could never be a commanding officer. Even though he possessed a logic circuit to rival Prowls (yes, beauty, brawn and brains, as the humans say), he knew he'd never be able to deal with autobots like that, and had therefore chosen the path of a warrior where he wouldn't have to be responsible for others beyond the battlefield. And the choice was all the more easier by the strong body and fierce weaponry he had been primused with, originally it had meant nothing more than extra glam for a lucrative modeling career, but through the war had been fine tuned to kill Decepticons on sight, funneling his deep hatred of them for destroying their way of life, so many megacycles ago.

He'd thought when he'd first met Sunstreaker alone at a base area, that they might be friends. He'd recognized him as a artist, even after joining the autobots he still followed such things (when there still was a time and place for pure art), and was genuinely surprised to see a famous neutral casting their lot with the Autobots just as the civil war was intensifying. It was actually a moral boost for him; he'd been nervous joining a ragtag assortment of unknown, unskilled transformers and wondering whether they would really be able to end the tyranny Megatron had already implemented in some areas.

But Sunstreaker had no appreciation for fans of his work. There was no response to his warm greeting, and when Tracks had tentatively put out that he hoped to see Sunstreaker return to the art world when all this was over, he elicited only a trademark cold stare.

It was vorns later before they continued that "conversation" as it were. Both were part a particularly horrid battle in which a beautiful city-state Praxus was completely destroyed. Surveying the charred ruins of dismembered comrades and civilians, Sunstreaker pointedly turned to Tracks and asked if he wanted a painting of this.

He'd managed to completely humiliate Tracks, especially as the original statement had been so long ago when both had been far more innocent. And it was completely irrational, to treat a comrade in this way when their very lives depended on each other. Why be an autobot if you were only going to spread bitterness? And why have an autobot army that allowed such behavior? Tracks knew that they couldn't afford to turn away warriors as brilliant as Sunstreaker, plus they would undoubtedly lose Sideswipe as well. He knew, and he knew there were many other personality defects with in the ranks as well, but he still couldn't rationalize it, and so instead kept to himself and refused all offered commanding promotions. The practice worked, over the vorns he'd created a loner persona and been given pretty much free reign to do what ever he wanted as long as it ended with him taking out Decepticons.

But it had its downside, such as now, being forced into small confinement with many others, including those he least favored. And what on Primus he could have done to be put in the same lot was beyond him, the only one he'd had any kind of relationship with off the battlefield was Jazz.

Jazz had a natural calming affect on those near him. It worked on Tracks during his worse times, and he trusted that it would work on Sunstreaker. He knew that any attempt on his behalf to intervene would only intensify things, that's why he stayed out, even when Sunstreaker began attempting to dismantle himself. Jazz was a leader; Jazz could deal with irrationality and turn in into nothing. And he could take nothing and turn it into something wonderful.

"Oh Primus" Jazz sighed, breaking the silence. He gently released Sunstreaker, who stayed on the floor, matching his twin's look of renewed horror.

"Did you learn something?" Perceptor inquired eagerly. Everyone had been on edge, watching, waiting for something to be vocalized.

"Cliffjumper and Bluestreak are next", Jazz replied heavily.

Bumblebee entered, dragging Cliffjumper by one leg. Spike followed sadly.

"Can anyone help carry Bluestreak? He's too big for me, and Ratchets dealing with the femme."

Now everyone stared at Jazz.

"Hound, Blaster, Cosmos…"

"Attention…we've just found Hound, Blaster, and Cosmos deactivated", came Optimus Primes voice over the intercom.

All optics remained on Jazz.

"Windcharger, Trailblazer…" Jazz paused, closing his optics in thought, "Uh, Mirage, Swoop…"

"Attention, Windcharger just deactivated on patrol..." Optimus Primus voice came in again, tinged with worry, "and I see on telatron one that Trailblazer and Mirage, are also deactivated.

During the transmission, a cyber-pump-rending "_Primus_" was heard from Ironhide in the background.

Everyone waited expectantly for another transmission to confirm Swoops status. When none came, Wheeljack contacted Optimus.

"Are all the Dinobots functioning properly?" he inquired.

After a moment of consulting, Optimus confirmed that they were all functioning happily in their area.

"Of course", Wheeljack muttered, "Swoop is outside"

Aloud, he requested Swoop to be brought inside and observed.

"So is that everyone?" Perceptor asked Jazz, still perplexed on how he so eerily predicted the diseases strike.

"Everyone that I know, I think", Jazz replied, "But, it doesn't explain Prowl."

TBC…


End file.
